Chapter1-Alone
It was a cold feeling.
A dark feeling.
A lonely feeling.
Then… there was no feeling…
Three hours earlier…
"It's going to rain, hon! Please wear your jacket!" Heather Spinner caught her son before he reached the curb. The boy spun around.
"Mom, I really don't-" He sighed. "Alright. You worry too much, Mom." He smiled. It was a warm, innocent smile. And one no one he knew would ever see again. He turned and ran toward the street again.
"Jack!" She cried out after him, and he spun about again, harassed.
"Yeah?"
"I love you, darling!" She smiled warmly at him, and he felt guilty.
"I love you, too, Mom." He grinned, and left.
It was past nightfall when Jack realized he should be getting home. He disentangled himself from the shopping cart and leapt to his feet. "I gotta go, guys!"
"Dude, come back tomorrow! Ron thinks he can beat Skylar down the Slope!" One of the boys called out jovially.
"Aw, c'mon," Jack grinned, not convinced. "No one beats Skylar! She's the champ!"
"I'm just the messenger!"
"Well, anyhow, I gotta go now…" He turned and ran back to the dilapidated jumble of apartment buildings. He wove through a crowd of bums, beggars, and vagrants without blinking. He dashed up the steps and into his apartment.
"Mom?" He called before he reached the door. He felt something was wrong. The door was ajar. "Mom…?" He asked, nervously, pushing the door open tentatively. No one was there. He went to the "kitchen", if you could call it that. A counter with a shelf over it, a mini-fridge and a microwave on a table next to it. A note was on the counter.
Jack,
Forgot I needed to talk to Emily. I shouldn't be long.
Love,
Mommy
He sighed. Of course. She had to go talk to Emily, in the apartment building behind theirs. She must have been in a hurry and left the door open. He decided to go over and walk her back home. Gotham was a deadly place at night. He made sure the door was shut tight before stealing away.
"She left about ten minutes ago, Jacky," Kevin, Emily's husband shrugged. "You must have passed her, or she went around the other way."
"Well, thanks anyway, Kevin. Tell Emily and Clay I said 'Hi'." He went back to the street. He glanced around and went the other way around the buildings. It had begun to rain. Glad his mother had forced him to bring it, Jack pulled his jacket's hood up over his head. He sighed as a clap of thunder ripped the air. His head snapped up.
The thunder wasn't alone.
The scream was unmistakably a woman's, and horrifyingly familiar. Adrenaline pulsing like ice through his veins, Jack tore down the street and turned into the alley. He ran through the maze, following two more screams, desperate to get there before it was too late.
He stopped suddenly, crashing into a trash can and alerting the mugger, who dashed away. All Jack saw was his face and neck, the latter of which was marked with a distinct tattoo of Black Widow spider. The man fled, and Jack started after him, but stopped and knelt by the victim's side.
"I'm sorry, Mom." Jack held her head in his lap, stroking her wet, but still beautiful blonde hair, so strikingly different from his own, which was pitch-black. She breathed shallowly. Ignoring the blood trickling down her face, she smiled and reached up a hand to his cheek.
"Take care of yourself, Jacky, baby. Don't let anyone hurt you, you hear me? Anyone…" She grimaced in pain and gasped, bringing tears to Jack's eyes. He was in shock. He didn't know what to feel. "P-promise me… You won't ever, ever grow up to hurt people."
"I promise." He swallowed, ignoring the sharp pain in his chest, as her hand fell to the ground and she died. He was alone. He felt a new feeling, one he'd never known.
It was a cold feeling.
A dark feeling.
A lonely feeling…
"Tsk tsk tsk. Aw, ya poor thing…" He paid no attention to the voice. A woman stepped from the shadows, sympathy plain in her features. "C'mon, Puddin'. Come on home with Harley." She reached out to him. He saw a red sleeve and a black glove. He looked into her face. Painted white and masked, with a red and black Jester hat. Such a youthful, innocent face. He trusted her. He took her hand.
"There ya go, Puddin'. An' don't worry yer cute little head. The police are almost hear to get her. You don't have ta cry. It wasn't until she said it that he even knew he was crying. He didn't even have the strength to lift his hand and wipe the tears away.
Then… there was no feeling.